Very Very Extraordinary
by UselessWreckage
Summary: Best friends Gwen and Merlin work on a film set and are looking for love. Insert shared exes with sinister agendas, handsome stuntmen, litres worth of green tea, and one incredibly annoying movie star, and mayhem truly is afoot.
1. Chapter 1

"Merlin. Merlin, did you get one?"

"Mhm."

"We need to talk about this."

There are less complicated ways for future best friends to meet than to discover that you're both dating the same girl. In most scenarios when two people unknowingly share a girlfriend, lifelong friendship is actually pretty far from the anticipated outcome. However, in the case of Gwen Smith and Merlin Emrys, probability had elected to take a holiday. Heartbroken as they both were over the monstrous betrayal of a certain Morgana Fay, they leaned on each other and bonded over the experience. They quickly found that they had a lot more in common than their taste in women. Over time, Morgana was almost forgotten - until the day when they both received an invitation to one of her big, flashy parties.

"This is a trick. It must be."

"How would it be a trick? What could she possibly be trying to achieve?"

"You know her. She's insecure. This is going to be posh, it's going to be fabulous, she's going to have the elite swarming around her, and she is going to lord our loneliness in our faces so that we regret ever breaking up with her."

"What did she expect us to do? Share?"

"I think she was banking on _one_ of us to stay."

"Well, she lost her savings. I'm not going anywhere near her again."

"We have to go."

"What?"

Merlin emerged from the mug of green tea he had been slowly drowning himself in. Gwen's smirk assured him that his perplexity was written all over his face.

"We have to go to this party," Gwen repeated.

"Why? Why do we have to do that? You said yourself, she just wants to humiliate us. Make it clear that it's our loss, which it isn't, but which we will be hard pressed to prove when stuck on her home turf."

"We'll go to the party and prove her wrong. Show her we're not lonely, we're great, and much better off without her treacherous socialite nonsense."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Speak for yourself. I'm not exactly wishing for her back, but I'm as lonely as Cinderella's left shoe. And weren't you moaning just the other day that no-one remotely attractive ever looks at you twice?"

"Oh, shush. For one, that shoe thing is possibly the worst metaphor you've ever used."

"Semantics."

"_And_ what I mean is, we need to step up our game. Find ourselves some girlfriends, or boyfriends, or lovers of any in between variation if the opportunity arises. We have to _become_ happy and not-lonely in time for the party. Which is," she double checked on her phone, "Actually quite a doable time limit. She's planned way ahead, we have all the way until end of the shoot."

The problem with Gwen was that she was incredibly determined. When she decided on something, for instance that Morgana would not get the best of her, she would not be persuaded otherwise. Whether Merlin argued in favour of staying away and being the better people - "You know she's just going to frame that as cowardice. I don't want her to fool even herself into thinking that she's somehow beat me. Not again." - or that Morgana was obviously trying to save face so maybe they should let her win - "Of course not! She needs to learn that she can't just use people like that! If we never show her, she'll never learn! We'd be doing her a favour." - or even that if they should go, they could go together, pretending to be a couple - "That'll never work. She knows us both too well. No, it has to be real." - she just would not budge.

"Wait a minute. This sudden enthusiasm for getting, as it were, _back in the game_ wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that we have both landed incredibly minor jobs in a film production starring your favourite actor?"

"How could it possibly relate?"

"Gwen. Gwen, look me in the eye. You are not going to make an attempt at seducing Arthur Pendragon, are you?"

"_No_. Oh, come on, why'd you have to mention - I can't concentrate on scheming for a date while I'm conscious of the fact that in three days I'll be working in the same building as _him_."

Merlin chuckled and rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he disliked Arthur Pendragon, not in any way, but he wasn't exactly a _fan_. He'd obviously heard of him, but then, who hadn't? The man's face was on the cover of every other magazine and featured in every other film trailer. Pendragon was very much an "every other" kind of celebrity, the kind that has not yet ascended to the throne of the pantheon, but whose presence is impossible to miss. And he was not in any way a bad actor, he was brilliant, in fact. Merlin liked him. That being said, he wasn't exactly pissing himself over the fact that Pendragon was to star in the picture. The same could not be said for Gwen, although thankfully there was no literal urination involved. As the start of work approached, she did at times squeeze Merlin's arm so hard and for so long that he could feel it turning blue. She hopped up and down like a little rabbit, which was both adorable and disconcerting, though not quite as disconcerting as the prospect of amputation, which Merlin's poor arm was likely to be facing. And of course, she had taken to repeating a mantra of prayers to a god he up until then been fairly sure she did not believe in.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she repeated, until Merlin suspected his ears might soon want to fall off together with his arm. He lifted the anguished limb's unoccupied twin to pat her hair in comfort.

"There there," he said, "I'm sure you'll survive. His loveliness is sure to adore you with your infallible charm."

To the great sadness of them both, however, this claim for Arthur's loveliness was soon disproved, and in his very first lunch break on set, Merlin faced a friend reminiscent of an excited puppy with the knowledge that he had to quench all her hopes and dreams.

Merlin was a floor runner on the set, and was to spend a lot of time making tea and coffee and being a general dogsbody. It did not make full use of his hard won media degree, but would fit well on his CV. Gwen was a costume designer by trade, but had accepted a role as a fitter for the experience of working on a big production.

As she spent most of her time in the costume workshop, she didn't see much of the big star except from that moment early in the day when she had almost fainted at the sight of blonde locks. Merlin, however, had sped back and forth across sets featuring the man all day, and could with grave confidence announce:

"He's an absolute prick."

Gwen's face fell.

"What?"

Merlin shrugged apologetically.

"No, you have to give me more detail than that. What did he do that's so bad? He's Arthur Pendragon! He's everyone's favourite! He can't be a prick."

"He can. And he is."

This certainty stemmed primarily from an incident surrounding a water bottle. Well, several water bottles. Merlin had been darting around the set, placing bundles of them in key locations and handing them to thirsty looking technicians. As he placed a bottle next to the big star's own chair, a voice had rung out from behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"Handing out water. Here."

Pendragon had simply furrowed his perfectly made up brow and asserted,

"I don't drink that water."

As it turned out, Arthur Pendragon only drank a particular _brand_ of bottled water, which was not the one Merlin tried to offer him. The mistake could apparently not be forgiven, as he insisted that Merlin be the one to subsequently fetch him that water. Once Merlin had found out where Pendragon's special water bottles were stored, the one he brought was apparently "too warm," and he received a splash to the face. When he finally did serve up a perfectly chilled bottle of Arthur's favourite water, the smirk on the actor's face was insufferable.

"He was enjoying my suffering, Gwen. There's no doubt about it. He is a prick, through and through, and I'm going to get revenge."


	2. Chapter 2

"There's no helping it. I'm in love."

"Oh, here we go."

"What do you mean, 'here we go?' Where are we going?"

"Come on, Arthur. You always develop one massive crush on each set you work on. It's tradition by now."

"It is not!"

"Arthur. Do I ever lie?"

"Well, no. You usually don't."

"There you are, then."

"But this time, this time it's for real."

"I'm sure. Alright, go on. You're in love. Again. Who is it this time?"

"He's a floor runner."

"Oh, good! I'm glad to see you mixing with the proletariat, rather than the usual heiresses and supermodels and, what was that one guy, international rugby player?"

"Fuck off, Leon."

"Tsk, tsk. Such language."

"And it was American football. There's a difference. _Anyway_, Merlin is very cute. All pale skin and dark hair and cheekbones, and he's delicate in a really masculine way, you know?"

"I don't, but carry on."

"And he responds really well to my teasing."

"Ah. So there is teasing."

"Of course there is teasing! He gives as good as he gets. Yesterday my shoes were filled with custard. It was _brilliant_."

"I worry about you sometimes, Arthur."

"I _hate_ that man," Merlin grumbled as he slammed his thermos down on the table. Gwen looked up from the vest she was busy mending and swallowed her mouthful of sandwich.

"What's he done now?"

There was no need, of course, to ask who he was on about. Complaining about Arthur Pendragon's inexplicable dedication to making his life hell was something Merlin increasingly did every lunchtime. Gwen was starting to agree with him about Arthur's unpleasant nature. She had only met her former hero a couple of times, but he had given her nothing but icy looks and rude grumbling, and when she confessed herself a fan of his work, he had openly rolled his eyes.

"This."

Merlin opened the lunchbox he had brought with him, and showed her the contents. The sight was horrifying. His wonderful ham sandwich was buried in fine sand, making it completely inedible.

"I was looking forward to a sandwich, not a _sand_wich. That was the last slice of the nice ham as well. Now I'll have to _buy _lunch, which I've got neither the time nor the money for."

"Are you sure it was him?"

"Of course it was him. He's got it in for me, you know he does."

"Well, you did put custard in his shoes. That was a bizarre one." He shot her a sulky gaze for that one, causing her to shrug. "If you've not got the time, why are you sitting here?"

"Because, like I said, I don't have the money either. Can I borrow a fiver?"

Gwen smiled and reached into her pocket, fishing out a crumpled note.

"Be a dear and bring me back a coffee from the shop on the corner, would you? The dishwater we get in here is hardly going to keep me energised for hemming a hundred thousand bloody petticoats. And no, I do not want any of your _green tea_."

She cast a look of disgust over Merlin's thermos. He refrained from lecturing her on how it was her loss and not his fault that she couldn't appreciate true deliciousness. They had gone through that discussion a dozen times already, and now was not the time.

Conscious of his time restrictions, Merlin jogged to the nearest food and wine shop and bought himself a sandwich. Suspiciously cheap and by no means healthy, but adequate under the circumstances. Then he all but ran to the coffee shop, where he ordered Gwen's favourite, a double macchiato. It was all going well until he picked up the finished coffee, turned to leave and promptly tripped over his own feet. Just as he accepted the fact that disaster was imminent, strong hands grabbed his wrist, rescuing the coffee, and his waist, rescuing him.

"Oh my god," he blurted out, "You just saved my life."

"Erm, well, I - " his gallant saviour responded.

"Or, well, maybe not my life. Gwen wouldn't murder me for spilling her coffee, she's the sweetest thing, but she would have been disappointed and that would have been horrible. If I was getting coffee for the Prat, however, I'd have been skating on thin ice risking its spillage. If that had been the scenario I would simply have to marry you!"

"Uh.."

Merlin now took the time to notice that his rescuer, who really was unusually handsome, looked quite bashful, and he decided to moderate himself a bit.

"Sorry, that's a bit too much, maybe. My point is, thanks." Then he grinned and reached out a hand for shaking, "I'm Merlin."

"Lancelot," the man answered.

As it turned out, Lancelot worked in the charity shop next to the coffee shop and tended to come there on his breaks. He had started out volunteering and now earned a token amount of money, though he also had another job cleaning windows. And he owned three rescue dogs. So, hard working, selfless, caring, dog lover… He was already too good to be true. His real passion, however, was revealed when Merlin mentioned his current job. Lancelot was a great film and TV enthusiast, and would like nothing better than to act on screen.

"I was always into acting when I was a kid. I did try for a bit, but you know, it's a competitive business. I went to a shedload of auditions, but I never got any callbacks. Not even for fast food ads. Goes to show, I should have gone all in, damned the money and the risk and applied for drama school."

"No callbacks? With that face? I find it hard to believe."

Lancelot blushed a little bit, and Merlin felt pleased with himself.

"Well, it's true all the same. Anyway, shouldn't you be getting back before your friend's coffee goes cold?"

"Shit. Oh, and I was late to begin with as well. Bugger. Well, I'll… I'll see you around, then, yeah?"

"I hope so," Lancelot answered, and his little smile was enough that Merlin's mood lifted several notches.

He hurried back to the studios and entered via the costume department. He knew the location of Gwen's desk by heart, so skipping over there took no time at all. He reverently sat the cup down in front of her. She looked like she was about to comment on the fact that he had bloody well taken his time with that and wasn't he in a hurry, but upon meeting her eyes he grimaced, indicating that yes, he really didn't have time to chat right now. Seeing as they were living together at the moment - they borrowed a flat near the studios from a friend of Gwen's brother, saving the trouble of a train commute from London every morning - there would be plenty of time to catch up on each other's day. So instead of explanations, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and commented cryptically that this whole 'find a date by the time shooting is over' ordeal might not be so horrible after all. She gave him a look that implied she was less than happy with his vagueness, but he shrugged apologetically. Later, later, all would be explained later.

He sped on to the set and even though he hated being late, he was able to get away with it and kept his good mood. It was of course dampened slightly when Arthur Pendragon threw a prop gun at his head.

"Clean this," was the comment the deluded star made to accompany his act of violence. Merlin grumbled a curse in reply, but his smile was not entirely gone. His inability to vanquish Merlin's good mood didn't seem to please Arthur particularly. That suited Merlin just fine, and he set about cleaning the plastic weapon which was stained with something that seemed to be fine plaster powder. He would get Arthur back for the rudeness, of course, he already had several plans in the works. He couldn't get away with obviousness, but his adversary would know who dealt the blow. The benefit of Arthur enjoying Merlin's torment was that he at least wasn't likely to try and get him fired.


	3. Chapter 3

The film was, of course, an action film, and so there were, of course, a great deal of stunts that needed filming. And a great deal of stunts required a veritable army of stunt men, who needed accommodation, who needed coordination, who needed a frankly ridiculous amount of water bottles. Luckily, none of them were snobs about it, and all accepted the regular, non-fancy, non-Pendragon-approved water. Unluckily, the difference in water preference did not stop them from being friends with Pendragon, who did quite a lot of action films after all. And Merlin, who had a tendency to get put on water duty, therefore had to be in his presence more than he preferred.

Of course, _any_ amount of time spent in Arthur Pendragon's presence was more than he preferred, but even so. It was somehow more hazardous to be around when Arthur had friends to impress. Not that he should need to impress anyone, being annoyingly rich, annoyingly successful, and annoyingly handsome. He insisted in spite of this on proving that he was also annoyingly annoying. But though his new cronies laughed with him and pandered to his whims in embarrassingly obvious ways, torturing Merlin was not a game they participated in. They laughed when Merlin slipped on a square of floor that had been covered in some sort of soap - somehow the bastard must have known Merlin would be the first to be asked to get something from that cupboard today - but one of them actually did come over to help him up. Arthur looked smug as usual as he unscrewed the top of his special water bottle. It happened to be one that Merlin had surreptitiously spiked with salt water, so after the first hearty gulp he spat a fountain, and the stunt men laughed even more. Merlin was rather pleased with himself, and not less so when the one who had helped him up offered him a high five. He wasn't particularly ugly, either, come to think of it. Merlin set to work cleaning the slippery bit of floor to avoid other casualties. He somehow suspected that blame was more likely to fall on him than on the star of the production, no matter who amused the stunt men more.

His high-fiving friend soon became a bit of a preoccupation in himself. He would laugh the hardest at any misfortune befalling Arthur - earning a few ugly glares from the prat himself and thereby securing himself a place in Merlin's good books - and he kept shooting Merlin an alarming number of little winks and grins. During a lull in production, when Merlin was trying to untangle a mess of wires that a technician had dumped on him, he suddenly felt a heavy body plonk down beside him.

"So, where did they pick you up from?" Mr. Ruggedly-Handsome-Stunt-Man asked.

"Er, Met Film graduates' lunch?"

"Met Film? Really? So how come you're here untangling wires and waiting hand and foot on Princess Pendragon?"

Merlin snorted.

"Oh, the usual Catch 22; to get a proper job, I need some proper experience, to get experience… Et cetera. I'll just have to suffer a few divas on my way to the top, I guess. The name's Merlin, by the way," he said, offering his hand after untwisting it from the cables.

"I know," answered the man with a wink, "I'm Gwaine."

"Gwaine!" a familiar voice bellowed. The newly established owner of that name rolled his eyes.

"And now I have been summoned by his Highness. Doubtless to make sure I know how to realistically imitate his flailing. Better go. I'll see you later, Merlin!"

And so he was gone, with another bloody wink. Maybe it was flirtatious. Maybe it was a facial tic. The possibility of the latter didn't keep Merlin from blushing. What an absurd stroke of luck - within little over a week he had no less than _two_ very attractive men paying him attention. There had to be a catch to this situation somewhere. Well, come to think of it, there _was_ a rather big, famous, arrogant, prattish catch to his life. But that catch could easily be survived, especially since Merlin already had a few tricks of revenge planned.

"She's not his girlfriend, is she?"

"I do not know, Arthur. I have never met either of them. I am probably never going to. This is ridiculous."

"I mean, she is very pretty. You know, in a sugary sort of way."

"The amount of times you inform me that I kno - "

"But that's not his type. It can't be. He is way too fierce to fall for a _sweet_ girl. Unless - unless she's just sweet on the surface. Maybe she's wicked underneath. Oh, that's it, isn't it. I'm doomed."

"Ever the hyperbolist."

"She is totally his girlfriend, isn't she."

"That could very well be. I'm sure you will survive the disappointment."

"You should be a bit more supportive. My heart is breaking. The only upside if he does have a girlfriend is I'm not the only one barking up the wrong tree. Gwaine's been making eyes at him for days, the rotten bastard."

"Gwaine?"

"Yeah, he's here on a stunt mission. Doing some falling off buildings for me. As I said, it might help the situation that at least _he_ won't be getting off with Merlin. That would be awful. And besides, I saw him first. … Leon? Are you alright?"

"What? Yes. Sorry. I'm fine."

"Good. Because I need to complain to you some more."

Merlin had just decided to bring the tangle with him to lunch, hoping for some advice from Gwen, who with her crafts experience could surely provide some tips on knots, when he nearly ran straight into the back of production manager Mithian Nemo. She hardly took any notice of him, and he was glad, because she could be really bloody terrifying. In fact, she was being really bloody terrifying right now.

"Where the fuck is he?" she snarled at some girl from the casting unit. "With all these macho idiots running around the set and clogging up the payroll, you're telling me that the only one who has _any_ experience with fencing has _not bloody showed up?_"

"I'm sorry, miss Nemo, but he's not here - I took the register three times and there was no Anders Eldred present."

The agitated conversation continued as Merlin surreptitiously rounded a corner and headed for the exit rather than the break room. An idea was forming in his mind.

The charity shop was completely empty of customers as Merlin entered. The only person in there was Lance, who was playing with a pair of old toy soldiers on the counter. When the door clunked shut he looked up, and smiled when he saw Merlin. For the moment he was unaware that he now had competition, and possibly unaware that there was anything to compete for.

"Merlin! I have great news!"

"As have I, but go on!"

"Today is my lucky day!" Lance announced, waving a rectangular piece of glossy paper. "Look!"

It was one of the scratch cards that they sold at the charity counter, with pictures of puppies and advertising the grand prize of a Mediterranean cruise for two. Lance had revealed that he had always wanted to go on a cruise, and Merlin had laughed at him and claimed there was no fun to be had on a boat full of smelly old rich people. At the time, this had seemed to comfort the unattainability of Lance's dream, but now, he was handing Merlin the card which had three little boats appearing in the scratched out area.

"Wow!"

"I know!"

"Congratulations! That is amazing," Merlin gave the card back, "When is the trip?"

"I don't know, I have to deliver the card to them, and then they'll supply the details. Oh! Before I forget, what were your good news?"

"Ah," said Merlin, "Well, first, you trained a lot of stage fighting when you were trying to be an actor, right?"

"Yes."

"Any good at fencing?"

"Perfectly capable. What's this about?"

"You know how today is your lucky day? Well, it's about to get even better."


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay, so remember, on paper, your name is Anders. Anders Eldred. Got it?"

"Anders. Got it."

"Good. Now, I looked up the guy's details and apparently he's a bit bigger than you, so the costume that's been made for his measure won't fit - but as luck would have it, a friend of mine works in the costume department."

"Merlin, you are amazing."

Merlin beamed. This was great; he really should do favours for people more often.

"Tell me something I don't know," he joked with a wink as he opened the back door to the costume workshop. He dragged Lance along to Gwen's desk and tapped her shoulder. When she turned around and saw who it was, she frowned.

"Right. You, sir, are going to owe me for this."

"Tsk. Where's your charitable spirit, Gwen?"

"In hiding. The coffee machine is broken again."

"My condolences. Anyway, this is Lance," he informed her, and her expression did become rather less antagonistic as she undoubtedly noticed the gorgeousness of Merlin's new friend, "If you could measure him up, that'd be great. I need to make sure his highness doesn't spontaneously combust without someone around to change his nappies."

He left to the satisfying sound of giggles.

He'd no sooner entered the studio they were shooting in before Pendragon threw a heavy jacket in his face.

"This stinks. Take it to the laundry."

It did indeed stink, although anyone with a shred of _professional integrity_ would have surely put up with it. Nevertheless, Merlin noted the information that Arthur was perhaps a bit sensitive to smell. Surely that would come in handy.

He spent most of the day in suspense, knowing that the big fencing scene was about to be shot that afternoon. Pendragon kept him running back and forth with stupid errands - none of the other runners seemed to do quite as much actual _running_ as Merlin did, but then, they hadn't been singled out as victims by this massive pillock.

The stunt crew were still milling about en masse. It was odd seeing at least three different version of the same character at any given moment. Merlin had to smile when he noticed that one of Arthur's doubles was a stocky looking woman - the prat came off as exactly the kind of traditionalist who would be offended to know that. If his tendency to use the word 'girl' as an insult was anything to go by. And there, among them, wearing a bright red jacket and looking absolutely smashing, was Lancelot. When he saw Merlin, he grinned and waved, and Merlin waved back enthusiastically. Lancelot had an excellent smile.

"Let's try again, then. Eldred? Anders Eldred?"

"Here," Lancelot said, "I'm here."

"Hm." Mithian looked him up and down. "You were supposed to be here yesterday; you are aware of that."

"There was a mix up at the agency, I can only apologise."

"Well, I hope that's not the _only_ thing you can do - we hired you for a sword fight. Gwaine Leith?"

"Here."

Gwaine looked ridiculous in the blond wig they had plopped on his head to make him look like Arthur. Merlin was sure that in post production they would be indistinguishable, but for now it was very amusing. He caught a glimpse of Sefa breathing a sigh of relief. With - to the extent of her knowledge - the real Anders Eldred around, she was out of range for Ms Nemo's blasts of anger. There seemed to be no end to how happy this little deception of his had made people. Lancelot was excellent in the fight - he took to the direction and choreography without missing a beat, earning appreciative nods and even mollifying Mithian. And Merlin's view of the spat wasn't bad either. The only cloud on the spotless sky of the day was the foul mood Arthur Pendragon was in. Clearly not happy with losing his spot as centre of attention, he took to throwing things at Merlin with even more violence than usual - not all of them as soft as the jacket the day had started with, but thankfully not all as smelly either.

When Lancelot and Gwaine had been fencing for a while, and Mithian as well as her team of camera operators, choreographers, and under directors were all happy with the sequence, Lancelot walked over to Merlin and gave him a sweaty hug. Merlin laughed.

"I have never had so much fun in my entire life," Lancelot confessed.

"I'm glad to hear it," smiled Merlin, "Anders."

Lancelot grinned in return as Merlin handed him a water bottle. He'd taken one out of Arthur's private stock just in spite, making sure, of course, that it wasn't spiked with anything. Thinking of that, he really should get on his revenge plan. Arthur's shoes were still vulnerably available. Perhaps he'd put tuna in them this time?

"So, um, Gwen," said Lancelot, pulling Merlin out of his nefarious planning, "Are you two..?"

"What? Oh, er, no. Definitely not," he assured him.

"Good! I mean, um, good."

Seeing the usually confident, handsome man bashful like this was entertaining, but also a bit painful. Merlin nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging matter.

"So, um. Do you think she'll object to giving me her number?"

Ah. Damn it.

Merlin laughed. He should have predicted that one.

"I think she'll be happy to."

Before the conversation could continue, a very sweaty t-shirt hit Merlin in the face. Now, hugging a sweaty Lance he had not minded. This was quite different.

"Hey, idiot. You're supposed to help, not sit around flirting with the stunt men," yelled a now shirtless Arthur Pendragon. Christ, even his abs were annoying. Someone whistled. Merlin fumed.

"How the fuck did he get this sweaty? He wasn't even in the sodding fight!" he grumbled as he got up. Lancelot gave him a sympathetic slap on the back. Well, he'd made a firm friend there, at least that was something. Merlin lamented the fact that he couldn't afford any of that Swedish fish dish that was illegal to eat on planes on the grounds of its breathtakingly bad smell. Tuna would have to do.

He did needle Gwen quite vigorously about Lance. It was only fair; it seemed he was not going to get the guy, so he might as well get the privilege of annoying his luckier friend.

"Ah, yes," he intoned dramatically, a pained expression on his face, "I thought I had a chance until he saw your face, and I was abandoned. Abandoned!"

He brought the back of his hand to his forehead and leaned his head back with exaggerated woe. She smacked him lightly in the elbow.

"Oh, shut up, Merlin."

"Though I do have to say, he is going for very immature tactics. Getting a friend to ask for him? Honestly."

"He asked if I'd _object_, not if you could get it _for him_."

"Ah, that's what I said. Maybe I was just trying to make him look good. Sticking up for my bro, you know."

"Please, don't ever say the word 'bro' ever again."

"I suppose it's a classic, though. Could be worse."

"If you do not give it a rest, you will have a face dripping with hot coffee in about ten seconds time. Wouldn't want that to happen to those cheekbones you are so proud of, now, would you?"

"You are evil, and I wish they had never fixed that bloody thing."

That was a lie; he knew that without her caffeine fix, Gwen would be a lot more difficult to deal with. He proceeded to sip his green tea in silence out of respect for her rage.

On leaving the studios later in the day, he was startled to find his way blocked by Gwaine, who slid in front of him and posed there with a knowing grin. Merlin wondered vaguely how long he had been there, lurking and waiting for the right crew member to saunter past.

"So," Gwaine said, "Anders has gotten a facelift since I last saw him."

"Sorry?" Merlin said, still distracted by Gwaine's ridiculous dramatic flair. And, to a lesser but not insignificant degree, his equally ridiculous hair.

"I worked with Anders Eldred on a project last year. Compared to then, he now looks a lot less like a chubby Swedish ginger kid and a lot more like a Cuban underwear model."

"Charity shop worker from Epping, actually," Merlin admitted. "Please, promise you won't tell? It's not doing anyone any harm. The real Anders doesn't bother showing up, and Lance has always wanted to be in a film."

"Tsk, tsk. Sneaking your boyfriend into a film set, impersonation of a crew member, surely that will get you into some trouble…"

"He's not my boyfriend," Merlin asserted, "There's fat chance of that. I honestly just wanted to help. He was good, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was. Smoothest fight I ever had." Gwaine looked Merlin up and down, apparently in consideration. "I guess, seeing as this Lance fellow is _not_ your boyfriend, I might keep mum… On the condition that you go for a drink with me."

Now, that was definitely cheeky. But smooth. But also blackmail. Fortulately, being blackmailed into a date was something Merlin really didn't mind at this point.

"Now there's _two_ of them!"

"Sorry?"

"Two competitors, Leon! Bloody _Merlin_ is glued to this one gorgeous guy - they were inseparable all day, bloody giggling together like a couple of schoolgirls."

"I thought you said he had a girlfriend?"

"That's exactly the point. I thought he did. But maybe he has a boyfriend instead. Or maybe - Maybe he has both! They might be in one of those polyamorous relationships. You know, get their cake and eat it, too."

"You could always join them. You always liked that particular kind of… Cake."

"Hah! No thanks. I want Merlin all to _myself_. He is mine."

"Even if it were legal to own human beings, that would not be a remotely accurate description of affairs."

"I'm beginning to think you're enjoying this."

"If your drama didn't divert me, we would never have become friends. Now, go to sleep. Some of us have real jobs to go to."


	5. Chapter 5

"He really is quite nice, isn't he?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. Gwen and Lancelot were getting on like a house on fire, that was fine by him, but there really was no need for her to be so bloody cute about it.

"Yees, he's very nice," he conceded, "Assuming this is Lance we are talking about. You didn't specify, but I hardly need to ask. You've talked about nothing else all day."

"Oh, fuck off, you're just jealous 'cause he doesn't fancy you."

"Definitely. But I'm hardly going to begrudge you your happiness. Speaking of which, do you think you've got your revenge date for Morgana's party?"

"It's early days, but one can hope. How about you? Are you going to be dragging Gwaine along as arm candy?"

That made him scoff.

"Hardly," he answered as he unzipped his backpack to rummage for his thermos, "It was fun - a lot of fun - but… Well, I don't know. I'm not really feeling it, and I don't think he is, either. I think we'll let that one stay a one time thing. Besides, he leaves when, the day after tomorrow?"

"Shame. Well, at least that gives me some room to play matchmaker."

"Oh god. Please don't."

"Would you rather take a random one night stand just to prove a point? Or worse - would you let Morgana win?"

Gwen's smile was astonishingly evil for someone so thoroughly sweet. Merlin groaned and unscrewed the thermos lid, planning to drown himself. Again. Unfortunately, the tea immediately make him choke, splutter, and cough.

"Wha - th - fuck, there's soap - ? How? How did he - ? My tea!" Gwen was slapping his back violently, which was a nice gesture, but didn't really help him with breathing nor talking. "I will bloody kill him," he coughed, "I will kill him bloodily. So killed. So bloodily. This is - going too far. No-one messes with my green tea."

He shook her off and arose to make good on his promise.

"Well, you keep putting things in his water, I guess it was only a matter of time before he returned the favour with your icky tea," Gwen said. He ignored her, until she called after him with a quote. "Assuming this is Arthur we're talking about. You didn't specify, but I hardly need to ask."

Even though he was already out of the door, he stopped dead and stuck his head back into the break room. He looked Gwen in the eyes and said in the strictest, most menacing voice he could manage, "No."

He didn't get far. To be more exact, he got to the next door down, where Sefa was walking backwards, struggling under the weight of a large cardboard box. She nearly toppled backwards, and the sight startled him enough to take the momentum out of his murderous rage. He reached out his hands in case he had to to steady her, but she regained control at the last second. Then she spotted him.

"Oh, great! Merlin!" her face lit up. "Do you have a moment? Only Mithian's asked for all these to be moved down to studio three - there's about a million of them."

Well, this was what he was getting paid for after all. Besides, he didn't really have a plan for his assassination yet, so he needed time to think. She might have been exaggerating when she said million - there were sixteen boxes in different shapes and sizes, but some of them were cumbersome and his help did make the job go a whole lot quicker.

"You are a godsend," she assured him.

"Any time," he said, and winked at her. He hadn't really planned to do any winking, so he surprised himself. She laughed, probably at his baffled facial expression, and he decided the best way out was to join in the laughter. Once a clown, always a clown - and he wasn't feeling at all murderous anymore. He inclined his head as Sefa left, and darted to pick up after some crew members that had apparently had breakfast on set. This required some stealth, as the scene they were beginning the shoot. Merlin gingerly picked up the paper plates and the empty packets that had once contained brown sauce. Eating messily like this shouldn't be allowed near all that equipment, he decided, and he vaguely planned to mention that to someone later. Exactly whom, well, that depended on exactly which of his superiors seemed the least grumpy when he got around to it. For now, he hovered awkwardly behind the cameras - Sefa had disappeared just in time, but studio three was the one with the slammy door, so he couldn't follow her with the rubbish before the take had ended. At least, not without risking the fury of Mithian Nemo, which he did not want. George came bustling along, casting a silent look over the boxes and seeming satisfied with their presence. Mithian herself was watching the progress of the scene attentively. And of course, Arthur Pendragon was prancing around on the set, as was his job. Merlin remembered his earlier fury, and settled for glaring at the actor sullenly.

"Cut," Mithian said, her calm voice filling the set without having to be terribly loud. "Very good, Arthur. I'd like to try that again. Can we get camera two in on this angle instead of - Yes, exactly. Alright, so Arthur, this time you'll have to adjust yourself towards - "

Merlin hadn't really kept listening after the word that signalled his freedom to use the slammy door, but when Arthur turned towards Mithian to pick up instructions, another movement caught his eye. There was something up with that par can, wasn't there? Surely it shouldn't be dangling like that. It didn't look to be very steadily fastened - Something clenched inside him as he realised it was about to fall. They were not dreadfully heavy - he knew that from carrying countless numbers of them - but it would be burning hot and drop two meters straight down on the head of the biggest star in the production. That would be a bad thing. Besides, he couldn't let serious harm come to someone when he had the power to stop it, not even someone as vile as the Pratdragon. In truth, his mind didn't really have time to go through this logical path. Instead, he reacted instinctively, and flung himself towards Arthur, pushing him out of the way of the falling light. Arthur was larger than Merlin, and even though his muscles were mostly utilised for looking good, he would probably have been able to fend off any attempt from Merlin to bring him to the ground, if the element of surprise had not been so prominent in his tactic. Arthur didn't have time to defend himself against the flying runner, so he was shoved out of the way and they both toppled over. Making use of the advantage, Merlin had him pinned forcefully to the floor when the par can crashed into the floor where Arthur had stood half a second earlier.

Merlin's subjective experience of time went a bit haywire. On the one hand, everything happened incredibly fast. The push, the fall, Mithian half raising from her chair with an uncharacteristically goldfish-like facial expression, someone letting out the beginnings of a belated warning. Then Mithian up and yelling at everyone and nobody in particular.

"WHO HUNG THAT LIGHT? WHERE ARE THOSE TECHNICIANS? SOMEONE'S CARELESSNESS NEARLY KILLED MY STAR, AND I AM NOT HAVING IT!"

There was sound and movement filling the room as everybody either energetically blamed somebody or frantically sprinted close to check if Arthur was okay.

On the other hand, the world seemed to stand completely still to let Merlin think through exactly what had happened and what he had done. He was lying in top of Arthur Pendragon, who was staring at him wide-eyed. It was quite a comical expression, really. Merlin discovered he was still forcefully holding him in place as if he were afraid that he would escape and get himself into more danger. Rather counterproductive, really - he had been plotting this guy's gruesome murder himself not long ago, so protecting him shouldn't be on the agenda. In the eternal few seconds it took for the adrenaline to let him release Arthur and let the set first aider do his job, he was unable to make sense of it. But all in all, this was a good deed. It was just that he hadn't planned to do any good deeds towards Arthur. And he hadn't planned to be that breathless close to him, either.


	6. Chapter 6

Gwen burst through the door with a grin on her face.

"So, there is the hero of the hour!" she exclaimed, and wrapped Merlin in a bear hug.

"Here I am," he agreed. And there he was. Curled up on the sofa in their borrowed flat, with a hot mug of nice, un-soaped green tea in his hands. It had been one hell of a day, but in a nice way. Sort of. A weird way.

"Seriously, you're more popular around set than Arthur. Word travels fast."

"Of course I'm more popular than Arthur. I'm not a stuck up, grumpy git."

"You're also not a movie star. But you did save the life of one, and that might be even better in some people's eyes."

"In most people's eyes who've met him - he is the kind of person that inspires rage, not heroics. I can hardly believe my own forgiving nature in coming to his rescue. I am practically a saint." That much was true. He shrugged a little. "Though truth to be told, that lamp wouldn't have killed him. Put him out of action for a while, yeah, but I don't think he would have died."

"Oh, stop ragging on your own achievements," she said, and swatted amiably at his head. "Everyone loves you, don't go talking yourself down."

"Well, perhaps you're right about my elevated reputation. I may, for example, have a date this evening."

She squawked.

"Merlin! That's super! Who is it this time?"

"'This time'? You make me sound awfully promiscuous."

"You are. And I would never hold it against you. I can only assume you had the entire studio swooning for you after you saved the life of our star?"

Merlin sighed and lifted his hands, partly a gesture of surrender to her curiosity, partly to halt her propagation of that version of events.

"Okay, before I tell you anything at all, you have got to stop saying that. I did not save Arthur's life."

"He saved my _life_!"

"Hm. What did he do, give you the last packet of cashews?"

"No! I mean this absolutely literally, Leon. He literally saved me from death. Some lighting fixture wasn't put up right, and I nearly got my head smashed in by a par can. But bloody Merlin pushed me out of the way."

"Oh my gosh! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Didn't you hear me? Merlin _saved me_. He knocked me over and then he lay on top of me for the most delicious seconds of my life."

"Shouldn't you be a little bit more worried about that par can? If this is the standard of workmanship, isn't concern kind of appropriate?"

"It's alright, accidents happen. He is stronger than he looks, you know. He tackled me no problem, and then just sort of pinned me to the ground. It felt like he would protect me from all the dangers of the world. Not that I need to be protected."

"Evidence suggests otherwise. Accidents happen, but they don't usually end with your bloody life needing saving. Are you sure everything around set is safe now?"

"Yes, yes. Mith will have made sure of that. But his _arms_, Leon. God, now that I know what it's like to have him hold me down like that… I tell you, this is powerful fantasy fodder. Mmm…"

"I really don't want to listen to you having an actual wank over Merlin's arms."

"Hm… This might be a good time to hang up, then."

"Arthur! You are a disgusting, irreparable, astonishingly gross human be - "

_Click._

It was worrying, really. You'd think saving someone from severe injury - Merlin was still loath to say he'd actually saved the prat's _life_ - would result in a little gratitude. Instead, Arthur was more antagonistic than ever. It was Sefa that first pointed his current attitude out to Merlin.

She was very different from Gwaine in most ways. He has been an intense one night stand, whereas she was the kind of person who was nice to talk with, flirt with, and hope to get to know better. The drink they'd shared the previous night had been comfortably relaxed and left him with a dumb smile on his face and an optimistic attitude. She hugged him hello this morning, before something behind him caught her eye.

"Oh, dear. What's gotten into _him?_"

Merlin turned to see Arthur glaring at him like he wanted to wipe him off the face of the Earth with a thought. He couldn't for the life of him imagine why. He hadn't even gotten around to putting anything in Arthur's shoes this time - he'd been distracted enough after the whole 'unholy rain of par cans' incident.

"We don't exactly get along," he explained. She scoffed.

"Merlin, everybody knows that. But that was a look of absolute _loathing_." She watched Arthur's retreating back, bemused. "I thought you'd have a truce after yesterday."

"Apparently not." He groaned. "Oh, shit, that means he's going to put something disgusting in my food or grease the floor again."

Sefa giggled, the traitor. Then she kissed his cheek and waved as she scurried off, which, okay, kind of made up for her amusement at his potential misery. He was smiling all the way down to the costume department, where he charmed one of Gwen's colleagues into letting him rig Pendragon's next costume delivery with a jack-in-the-box spider that he'd been saving for a special occasion. His skills at toppling actors at the right moment had certainly made it easier to get people on his side. Not that that had ever been a problem; he was incredibly charismatic.

Letting the day pass was easy enough - fortunately there was a lot to do that required being nowhere near the actual filming of the thing. They were approaching the end of this heat, so soon the whole film would be clearing out of these studios and Merlin's part in the project would be done. It was slightly melancholic, but in many ways it was going to be a relief. Well, except for Morgana's party looming two weeks after, but that was alright. If he and Sefa worked out, he could bring her, and Gwen would surely take Lancelot, and then… Well, hopefully, that would teach her not to attempt gloating.

Or at least to keep her gloating short notice, rather than doing it through a party whose insanely posh venue needed RSVPs four months in advance.

When Gwen waved him over, he had just gotten off the phone with catering. One girl who was in to do some prosthetics had apparently forgotten to notify them of her peanut allergy, so he needed to re-order a special meal for her. If anything, this was more likely to be the lifesaving action he should be commended for. Hopefully she could survive being around other people eating the stuff. Leaving that worry aside, he jogged over to his excited looking friend.

"You look like you have something to tell me."

"What do you think of cruises?" she asked, chewing her right thumbnail with an elated shine in her eyes.

"I think there is a general risk of old people and karaoke, but all in all it sounds quite - hang on." Realisation dawned. "Lance has asked you along to his dream cruise, hasn't he!"

"You knew about that?"

Taking that question as confirmation, he beamed and nodded.

"Yes, he was very excited about it. And now he's going to take you? He must really be under your spell."

"Do you think it's too soon, though? I mean, going on holiday with someone only a few weeks into the relationship? The trip will last almost as long as we've been seeing each other!"

"I do think it's probably too soon. But that might be a good thing - you get a free holiday, you get to _really_ know Lance - and if he turns out, against all evidence, to be a plonker underneath it all - then you are under no obligation to see each other again."

"That does sound reasonable."

"I am capable of reason, you know. Occasionally. So, would you leave immediately after we finish here, or..?"

"Pretty much. We'd be back just in time for… For the party."

"Oooh. Now there's a dilemma. If you don't work out, then you'll be back freshly single, and Morgana will have a field day." He did his best to look pensive. "Perhaps you would be better off if he brought a mate along rather than a girlfriend."

She swatted at him.

"Ah, you think you should be the one to go, do you?"

"What? Afraid that with you out of sight, he'll fall head over heels for me instead."

"It's been known to happen," she grumbled darkly, "But no, no way."

"Oh, a boy can dream."

"You beast! Think of Sefa!"

"Gwen, we went on _one_ date. A nice date, true, but hardly a profound commitment."

They continued their bickering on their way into the break room, and all through lunch - until such a point as a raging furious prosthetic artist marched in, intent to find that nincompoop Merlin Emrys, who had sent catering strict instructions not to allow her to have any satay sauce - her very favourite. Merlin had to defend himself and apologise profusely, assuring her that he only had her welfare in mind, before she was vaguely satisfied that she needn't rip his head off. When she left, he let out a long, whistling breath.

"False alarm on the peanut allergy, then. Wow. I thought the _actors_ were supposed to be the unreasonable prima donnas."

Gwen patted his head as if he were a puppy.

"Viv's an artiste," she explained, "They do occur in costume and makeup."

"I think we both know who's to blame for that spectacle."

He had no time left to conduct any fish based revenge on Arthur, so he contented himself with hoping that the man was somehow an extreme arachnophobe and the jumping spider would do the trick.


End file.
